The Age of Wonder and Terror
by Humble Caligula
Summary: Set 18 years after the events of "A feast for crows." Westeros is still recovering from the war of the five kings and the war for the dawn. Will the new generation ravage westeros once more or can they fix the mistakes of their fathers?


**Prologue **

His eyes felt heavy now, the candle falling dim. For hours Lord Axel Thorne had been going through the unfinished business of the day, scouring through reports, and letters. Picking up one dry bit of parchment at a time, reading the tales they had to tell. The flicker of the candle made it seem as though the words were dancing on the paper, constantly shifting to the right and left. He squeezed his eyes with a clenched fist and opened them wide once more.

"_To the High Lord of the Blackwater rush and the Hand of the King,_

_The eastern usurpers have landed with a host of 7000 men, their units were sent to secure the surrounding holdfasts and villages around Duskendale. Our last remaining host is shattered and only 3200 men remain of it, trapped north of Duskendale. We suspect they will march on the morrow. Foraging teams have been spotted close to the capital, we are trying to construct strings of defensive fortifications to properly patrol the countryside. _

_Lord Bronn of the Blackwater, Commander of the Royal Army_."

The Pentoshi had conspired with the Dornish to put Lady Shireen Baratheon, daughter of Stannis Baratheon, on the throne. She was an age of twenty-nine now. He let out a disappointing sigh and threw the paper to the ground. His first priority was to smuggle the King, the fourteen-year-old Vaegon Targaryen, and his twin sister, Vaena out of Kings Landing and get them to Drifmark so that Lord Monterys Velaryon could ferry them to Volantis. _One generation of Thornes had failed the Targaryen's, and now so does another_, Axel thought. His Uncle Alliser had fought for Aerys "the mad king", and his failure resulted in him being sent off to a frozen hell. He oft wondered what had happened to his uncle.

He couldn't recall when it had been that he dozed off; the servant had woken him from his short slumber, "Fetch me some water, boy" he said whilst wiping the sleep from his eyes. The council of regents was meeting early today, Axel put on some black woollen breeches, a black and red silk tunic, with rubies studded down the middle to represent the colours of the sigil of house Thorne, the Gules, a flail argent within a bordure rayonne sable. He put on his black doeskin gloves and some pointed shoes. Axel then fastened a medium length red cape over one shoulder, then finished by putting on his black woollen hat with three parrot feathers on the side. He gulped down a cup of cold clear water. It felt refreshing on his dry, burning throat.

Axel had hurried to the council chamber to get the days business out of the way. He was an average sized man, with thick auburn hair tied back and a thin auburn moustache and soul patch. Rushing down the steep spiral of steps through the tower of the hand, making his way through the Red Keep. He opened the doors and the council stood as he entered the room. His fellow regents and councillors all looked at him. Present was the Master of Coin Lennocks Cox, a tall slim man with sharp cheek bones, short ginger hair and a moustache, also ginger. The Archmaester Phillip stood beside him. Then there was the Spymaster Lady Moelle Crabb, she was flanked by the Lord of the tides Monterys Velaryon. He had straight long white hair, like a true Valyrian, with even the shiny violet eyes as well as a clean-shaven face. His face reminded Axel of Aegon, the one they once called young Griff, though it had stronger features all round. Lastly there was Lord Renfred Rykker, Axel suspected he had only come after his castle at Duskendale had been stormed. The only members of the council who were not present were Lord Bronn of the Blackwater and Commander Gerris Drinkwater, the Master of Laws.

"I see his grace has not honoured us with his presence on this important day" Axel said, scanning the room.

"Almost as if he doesn't want to be smuggled out of his own castle and shipped off to a foreign land ey, Axel?" Monterys said with a smirk. Monterys was the only member of the council younger than Axel himself by one year, at twenty-five. He was dressed in an ivory leather tunic, embedded with fine silverwork in some eloquent floral patterns.

"Give the boy a rest, would you?" quipped Lady Moelle, "I've sent for him, he will be here shortly."

Axel walked to his seat and the rest of the council sat. "Fortunately for King Vaegon he is not aware of how dire our situation really is, my councillors, what is our situation?" Axel said as he leaned back and took a deep breath.

Archmaester Phillip unrolled a large vellum sheet displaying a detailed map of the Crownlands and Lady Moelle Crabb grabbed a long parchment and began to read from her notes "The Pentoshi mercenaries that landed in Duskendale will be marching at some time today, we expect they'll be here within a few days. Storm's end and The Stormlands have taken up arms against us in support of the Lady Shireen's claim, a-"

"Lady Shireen has no claim" Muttered the Archmaester Phillip.

"…and have allowed the passage of a Dornish host, we suspect that this host will pick up the Usurper Shireen Baratheon to then march straight to Kings Landing at full strength." Moelle continued. She hesitated for a moment, "My lord if I can make one suggestion it is that we flee this place and continue to fight from elsewhere, like the bastard Myrcella."

Axels face dropped, and he gave Lady Moelle a piercing frown. "I will not flee… My Lady." _Unlike Myrcella we don't have a whole kingdom waiting to welcome us with open arms. _He turned to the large vellum map laid out on the table. "Lord Bronn has repeatedly assured us that he can hold those perfumed Cheesemongers north of Stokeworth. They will smash against Bronns fortifications and then Lord Gerris can collapse upon them in their confusion from the North in Rooks Rest" Axel said confidently as he slid his hand across the map.

Monterys interjected, "My Lord-hand, Gerris' scattered forces can hardly defend themselves, they are outnumbered, have no supplies, and are marching toward Maidenpool to secure a supply line!"

Lord Axel smashed his fist against the thick oaken table, the thump clapped across the room, silencing any opposing voices "Then you will tell them to turn around!" Axel said with a raised voice, as his eyes quickly met Monterys, his temper beginning to flare.

"But my Lord-hand if I can get even a quarter of my ships to maiden…"

"ARE YOU REFUSING TO OBEY MY ORDERS? I BELIEVE IVE EXPRESSED MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR!" Axel screamed in a spontaneous fit of rage.

Everyone was looking anywhere except at Axel and a dark silence fell upon the room. Just as Monterys returned to his seat and Axel took a sip of water, he heard the door open. "Ahh, my king, you're here" Axel said as Vaegon had entered the room. He was tall for a boy of fourteen, his face was stern and commanded authority. Vaegon was wearing a black and red tunic made of velvet, studded with rubies and delicate silverwork. He had the shadowskin cloak that his mother, the late Queen Daenerys used to wear. It was passed to him along with Aegons reforged Valyrian sword Blackfyre, after both of their deaths. His hair was short on the back and the sides, a little bit longer on the top, as silver as the metal work that wrapped itself around his tunic. His deep amethyst eyes stood out, much as lord Monterys' did.

King Vaegon passed the room greeting and shaking hands with all the councillors with a dashing smile on his face, radiating confidence. "So, tell me Lord Axel what is so urgent that this couldn't wait an hour or two?" Said Vaegon in a calm-soothing voice as he took the kings seat next to Axel with the Black pillow embroiled with the red three-headed dragon of house Targaryen.

"Well your Grace as you know our military situation has been degrading over the past few months and the council has concluded that you and your twin sister Vaena would be safer out of the country for the time being. Lord Monterys will use what remains of his fleet to ensure your safe passage to Driftmark, then through the Stepstones and to Volantis." Axels rage had simmered down with the Kings presence.

"Ahh yes, I have been hearing this talk of exile as of late."

"Not exile, your grace. I would rather say strategic redeployment; you will still be King of the seven kingdoms across the Narrow Sea, my king. We will stay there, lick our wounds, rebuild our strength and come back as glorious liberators, much like your own mother and father Aegon and Daenerys, your grace." Said Monterys calmly reassuring the young King.

The late Queen Daenerys had received a Dragon egg from a Shadowbinder from Asshai, Vaegon had managed to hatch the egg, the young Dragon was named Zaenor and had been tamed by Vaegon. Zaenor was only one and a half years old and too small to fight, so they knew they had to bide their time. Queen Daenerys had died during the birth of her third child Baelor Targaryen, from her scandalous relationship with Ser Oberyn Jordayne, she hadn't waited long to conceive another child after Aegon had left for Mereen. The baby could not come out, so the dying Queen commanded the maesters to save the child by cutting him out of her belly. Little Baelor was legitimised before he had even been born, for the love Daenerys bore his father, it was her last royal command. Ser Oberyn had taken the child to Dorne with him some time after because of troubles at court. He was only a year younger than King Vaegon.

Axel gave the king a parchment stamped in the red wax with the Hands seal on it. "What's this?" king Vaegon asked.

"It's a briefing of the current state of the Seven Kingdoms, your Grace. You have to become a leader now and find the strength to inspire your people. Unfortunately, kingship comes with a lot of tedious reading." Axel said while getting the rest of his papers in order. The king read the document and asked numerous questions about the technicalities of the whole thing, about Myrcella being crowned queen of the Westerlands, planning to retake Kings Landing consolidating her position. About the Septon Ardon Stakely who seized power in the Iron Islands and the Reach after defeating and killing Euron Greyjoy in a Faith revolt, declaring that the Iron Islands would no longer be a kingdom of Heathens. About Eurons only legitimized son, _The Black Kraken,_ being in exile, while supposedly in the possession of Eurons Dragonbinder, if such an item existed. About the troubles in the North and about Essos. The council discussed these matters with the king for some time, and concluded making the necessary arrangements for King Vaegon, Vaena and the rest of the court and the remnants of the Golden company to depart on that very evening.

The Master of Coin Lennocks Cox had secured the necessary financing for the whole operation and had handed over a heavy leather sachet full of shiny new minted gold coins over to Monterys. "Try not to lose them, I was sticking my neck out for you lot getting this." Lennocks Cox said as he pressed the leather sachet into Monterys' chest.

"Who do you take me for, the master of coin?" quipped Monterys back at him as he patted him on the back laughing.

"Ill see you after dark at the docks when you are ready to depart" Axel said to Monterys and the King, "Ill make sure that the streets are cleared, secrecy is of the utmost importance."

It was past mid-day when the council had adjourned for the day. Axel was the last to leave the Red Keep. As he stepped out, he felt the sunlight's warm embrace, but couldn't help noticing it was still a bit cold from the wind. _The winter is coming to an end_ he thought. The winter that had lasted for more years than he cared to remember, the winter that brought the Others back to Westeros. _And I was one of the many soldiers in the war for the dawn, all the monsters we were told about as children were real_. Axel walked through the gardens and then walked down the path that had a beautiful view of the sea, staring across the ocean often gave him a peace of mind, a piece of tranquillity in these perilous times. He had been the youngest hand since Lord Tywin, though he had not thought he had half of the merit of the old lion. _The best men have fallen already, that's the only reason I'm here. _He had built a successful trading business using a ship he had, he then turned it into two ships, then four, then eight, then sixteen. Through the word of mouth of his clientele the heads of the royal court were made aware of this and shortly after came summons from Kings Landing offering him the position following the resignation of another lord. His life seemed to keep elevating. He had found himself a suitable wife, Lady Rhea Crabb, a beautiful young maid with golden hair that reached down and covered her breasts. A slim woman that frequently wore very revealing gowns. He had shared many nights of passion with her shortly after they were married. It was only the year before this one that she had given birth to twins as a result of one of her visits to the capital. He hadn't even had the chance to see his boys yet, young Denly and Erreg Thorne. _I must get back to my family._ Axel had no intention of staying to die in the capital, but he did want the army to continue fighting, lest he lose everything. The Baratheon's wouldn't want the remnants of the old regime when they took the capital. Axel was willing to sacrifice any amount of men for the security of his family, Rayonet was not far from the fighting, he knew they weren't safe. _Bronn, I need to send word to Bronn._

Axel started walking back to his study in the tower of the hand. Lady Moelle didn't trust Bronn. She had oft expressed her doubts about him as soon as he left to take command of the armies on the field. "He was a well-known cut throat; no loyalty to anything or anyone bar himself" she had always told Axel. He brushed it off. Bronn was a man of fifty-and-two now, and Axel paid him well and signed a decree saying that the castle of Stokeworth now belonged to Bronn himself. _I know how to play a cut-throat, Moelle_. He needed capable warriors for the security of the realm.

He had gotten to his study, Axel loved his big luxurious apartment at the top of the tower, it was almost enough to make him feel like a king himself. Sinking into the fabric sewn into it his finely carved oak chair, he dipped his quill in the ink pot and took a fresh bit of parchment.

"_To Lord Bronn of Stokeworth, Commander of the Royal army,_

_Firstly: What are the Pentoshi movements, where are their armies stationed, where will they strike next, and when will they march?_

_Secondly: What are we doing about the Dornish host to the South? How long before it reaches the capital?_

_And finally: What is the condition of your own army, do you need supplies? Equipment? Raw materials? _

_I require a full check on the status of your host so that we can make the necessary arrangements to properly provision it._

_Regards,_

_Lord Axel Thorne, The Hand of the King_."

He gave the parchment a gentle blow and watched the dry dust fly off it. _Bronns army is the last bulwark between the enemy and my family_. He needed to act fast. He let the hot wax drizzle onto the rolled-up parchment and gave it a firm press with his seal. The letter was given to a courier with instructions to the Archmaester send a raven to Bronns camp. He finished drafting up the necessary orders for the streets near the docks to be cleared, the Golden company was to set sail first, the King was to set sail disguised as a Nobel aboard a merchant ship with his most faithful knights and retainers.

The darkness slowly enveloped the whole room. _Its time_. He draped himself in a black cloak and made sure his face was hidden, he travelled to the docks alone in silence. Axel made his way on the deck of the brown-hulled Carrack and proceeded to walk to the captain's quarters. The crew was rushing around to get ready for their voyage, so he did not have long. He grabbed the golden doorknob and pushed the door open to find King Vaegon and the Princess Vaena supping with Lord Monterys. The door was flanked by the kingsguard Ser Morton Sunderland and Ser Morgan Rykker. The decision to take two kingsguard was not taken lightly, but those knights were selected for their loyalty and prowess in combat. The rest were not to be trusted, with the appointment of Ser Meryn Trant as the Lord Commander of the kingsguard the order had lost a lot of the prestige it once held. The well-lit Quarters were luxurious indeed, in front of the entrance was a Tiger skin mat, the walls painted with a smooth finish so that the wood seemed to shine no matter where you looked. Around the room you could see ornaments and gems from every corner of the world, and even a marble sculpture of what looked to be some ancient eastern king. In the corner Zaenor was sitting curled up asleep, like a cat. Though he dwarfed the size of any cat, the little dragon was now bigger than any dog in Westeros. The dragon displayed vibrant gold and ivory colouration, but its scales also produced an abundant amount of rainbow iridescences as they reflected the light. Zaenor really was a magnificent creature, Axel could only imagine what he would look like ten years from now. They were feasting on a crispy river pike on a bed of roast vegetables flavoured with lemon, garlic, butter, parsley and thyme. The freshwater smell infused with the citrus of the lemon and the fragrance of the garlic was making Axel hungry.

"I thought you were going to miss us, Axel" Said the king while cutting up his pike fillet.

"I'm glad we've gotten to see you, Axel!" Said the Princess Vaena as she smiled, while pouring herself a glass of dark red wine. She reminded Axel so much of Daenerys, he could tell she was taking after her although she still had time to grow yet. She was a bit taller than her mother, almost the same size as her twin brother with the same deep violet eyes. Her gleaming silver hair was so long it went well past her shoulders, and past her belly. Axel knew she would grow to be more beautiful than Daenerys; and a better fighter as well. Like Queen Rhaenyra she would grow to fight on dragonback, after they find their lost dragons. She was wearing a green gown with golden patterns in the shape of dragons embroiled on it, a golden necklace studded with jade and a variety of other expensive looking gems as well as a golden headband also studded with jade that went under her hair.

"As am I, my Princess, during times of war I am not in control of my own time for the most part, unfortunately." Axel said as he went to take a seat. "I won't be able to stay for long, your grace, the ship is departing shortly, and I just wanted to see you two off before you go, and to have a moment with Lord Monterys." They all exchanged pleasantries and over a cup of wine before Axel escorted Monterys to the deck to discuss an important matter, it had begun to rain heavily, with some hints of a storm coming. Both men pulled up their hoods and walked across the deck whilst the rain was lashing down splatting hard off the deck, they saw a spark of lightning come crashing into the sea beyond the harbour and the roar of the thunder that followed was so great that they felt its force through their feet. They went below to get down to the cargo deck on the lowest floor, they had to pass through the crews' quarters where the ripe smell of sweat, vomit and ale filled the damp air.

Monterys grabbed a lantern as they descended to the bottom floor of the ship. Crates upon crates piled atop one another, some half open, their contents scattered all over the floor. They pressed ever further into the dark abyss that was the hold; carefully minding their steps to not trip over a miscellaneous item in this labyrinth of wood. Until a shiny golden flicker was visible in the distance, first one, then two, then a few. "There it is" said Monterys.

"Yes, the golden skull of Aegor Bittersteel". _The skull that belonged to the founder of the Golden Company._ Axel wrapped his hand around the skull that hung from the banner of the Golden Company, displaying three golden skulls on a black spear against a white field, and held it in his hand for a moment. _Help him, guide him, lead him to glory._ He could hear the wood creaking as the crew were rushing around on the decks above. "So, you're clear on the plan then, Monterys?" Asked Axel, still caressing the golden skull.

"Of course, we've gone over it a thousand times." They heard another crack of thunder outside. "Don't send word back to the capital reporting your movements, there is no guarantee I can hold it" Axel said in a calm, monotone voice.

"What about the other councillors? They know that we are leaving tonight" asked Monterys, now facing Axel.

"What of it? They don't know much beyond that."

"They know we're taking the men, they know we're taking the ships, and the dragon, that's enough for a clever man."

Axel turned to face Monterys, smiling now. "You overestimate people too much… But very well, if the city should fall ill try to get the councillors caught in the crossfire, I'm sure that will buy their silence." They continued to briefly go over their plan, as they had done so many times before, sharing details of the voyage to Driftmark, through the stepstones and to Volantis to decide on the best course of action from there. Lord Axel Thorne said his farewells to the King and the Princess and then to his friend Monterys and saw the ship leave the harbour as he made the cold wet journey back to the Red Keep through the narrow streets of Kings Landing.

Three days had passed since King Vaegon and most of the court had left kings landing. Axel had no idea where they were by now, or even if they were alive, and he likely was not going to find out for some time._ Why haven't I received word from Bronn yet,_ Axel wondered, he had sent message after message both by courier and by raven. _I'll have that cut-throat drawn and quartered if he continues to endanger my family_. Lady Moelle did not prove any more useful; only claiming that every time she sent someone there to see what was going on, they did not come back, nor had they sent any messages. Axel had a sinking feeling that something wasn't right. He was not going to wait around to find out anymore, tonight was the night he was riding north to Bronn to find out what was happening. Orders were given to Archmaester Phillip and Moelle to send word to every available knight and every available officer to gather what men they could and meet him in the yard, leaving the running of the castle to Lord Renfred Rykker in his absence. A loud knock on the door came. "Yes?" Axel answered.

"Ser Meryn Trant, my Lord-Hand, I'm here with the officers" Meryn quickly replied.

"And why did you come here?" Axel said raising his voice. "Go down to the courtyard with that rabble you brought me and make yourselves useful! NOW!" he said as his temper flared. He heard the clanging of Meryn's steel armour fading into the distance as they were dismissed. _How that oaf became lord commander of the kingsguard I will never know._

He had called up the squires to help him with his steel plate armour. He had forgotten how heavy the armour was, he had trained with sword and horse for most of his adolescence, but he always forgot how heavy the armour was. It was like he was trapped in a dream where he couldn't walk or run as fast as he wanted to, like a thousand arms ascended from the ground to pull his legs down. The descent down the tower was made more uncomfortable by the armour, but one clumsy step at a time and he was down. About five hundred men were gathered in the court yard. _Ahh, the saviours of Westeros._ This was all that could be found nowadays; stable boys and peasants drafted by Meryn with the promise of gold and glory once the war was won, half of the household guard and some goldcloaks; armed with swords, spears, pikes, Axel even spotted a scythe among the rabble. There was another chill in the air tonight. The way it had been for quite a while now, but he was still never accustomed to it. The breaths of warm air leaving the fresh bodies in the courtyard looked like plumes of smoke in the black of night. Axel approached the officers and greeted them all individually.

Meryn was wearing his white gilded armour that the kingsguard traditionally wear and was holding his helmet in his hands. Next to Meryn was Ser Edgar Longwaters who was holding a steel half helm in his hand. He was wearing chainmail over some brown boiled leather all covered by a grey woollen surcoat displaying a black ship facing forward with a white seahorse on its sail. Then there was Ser Endrew Lemmon; a landed knight. He looked in his late twenties, had a thick brown circle beard along with thick brown hair that was tied back into a bun all attached to his pudgy face. He was wearing black boiled leather for armour and had a huge great sword strapped along his back. "Get your horses ready and get these men ready to march" he said, and the officers quickly dispersed. Just as he was walking over to his horse, he couldn't help but notice a slight orange light slipping over the walls, his eyes were still fixed on it even as he was getting the horse ready to move. Axel mounted the horse and was riding to take a closer look.

"SERS!" A scream came from outside the gate. "SERS!" Again, in quick succession. It sounded like a squire, a high-pitched voice crying through the gate. Axel marched his horse to the gate in some haste. It was a frail young boy at the gate, in his early teens, most likely a squire.

"What is it boy what's the matter?" Axel said in confusion looking down on the crying lad.

"There's a fire ser! Some men came through the gate! Everyone started panicking! I don't know who they are!" he cried. _Ohh no!_ Axels heart had started thrashing in his chest, like it was clawing to get out. He tried to stop the terror showing on his face.

"OPEN THE GATE" Axel screamed. "MERYN, MERYN" He barked out.

"My lord?" Meryn said as he came galloping over, his white gilded helm on his head, though the visor was still unopened.

"We march now! With me everyone!" Meryn rounded up the knights and then the men and got them into a column ready to march out of the gate. It felt like he was the only one panicking. The column left with the knights at the head on their horses on a light trot, the rest of the column jogging behind, Axel didn't want to be separated from his men in the chaos.

Meryn rode next to axel on his left, "They came through the iron gate my lord, Flea Bottom is on fire" Meryn said as the sweat was running down his brow. Axel could see it now from atop the hill where the Red Keep was just as the column was leaving the gates. A ranging inferno took grip of one side of the city, what was Flea Bottom now looked like the gate to the seventh hell. _And we are marching right into it_. Axel thought, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"We ought t' take the main road to the centre and then turn toward Flea Bottom, lest the column gets disorganised through the narrow streets" suggested Ser Endrew.

"As you wish" replied Axel, and down the main road they went.

The closer they got to the fire the more chaos they witnessed, burning embers were raining all over the city like flaming snow. The fire cast so much light that you didn't even need the street lanterns to see. Men, women and children were running in every direction. Men engulfed in flames were running in desperation through the streets trying to find a puddle or a bucket of water. Axel had saw a woman collapse with three arrows through her chest, and a man briefly hopping on one leg after the other had been dismembered before he fell unconscious to the ground. _Seven hells._ Axel thought. He had heard stories but never had he actually been in a battle before, never mind being a commander. They turned into the road towards flea bottom, the road to hell itself and they saw the enemies. Axel did not quite know who they were, he had suspected the Pentoshi, but he didn't know what their soldiers looked like, there were no banners. He suspected Bronn was long dead without ever bothering to send a raven back to kings landing. He slid his visor down, "CHARGE!" He boomed. He didn't think about it, didn't know where he was, this was raw instinct. He heard his horses' hooves and that of his brothers-in-arms clattering off the cobblestones as he unsheathed his sword, the hot air breezing against his face, his first target was in sight. Just as the soldier was coming out of a house on the street Axel raised his sword up high and swung down as hard as he could, it all happened so fast. He didn't know if he'd killed the man and he didn't look back to check. All that Axel saw was thick red blood on his blade. He was charging too far forward and had no idea how far he went. He was in the thick of the combat now; his horse swung round so that he could see what was happening. Meryn had been dismounted and was fighting on foot cutting down several opponents. Ser Edgar disappeared on horseback into an alleyway chasing down some of the insurgents. And finally, he turned to see Ser Endrew with an axe buried three inches into his face, his lifeless corpse was hanging to the horse by one leg being dragged around by his black stallion.

It didn't take him long to realise that his men were being cut to pieces. _Useless_ Axel thought in disappointment. _I must get back to my family. _His head turned in every direction around the blazing labyrinth looking for a way out. Axel spotted a narrow street that would lead him past the dragon pit and straight to the Gate of the Gods to safety, he gave his horse a kick. "Run, boy, run!" he shouted to the horse. In an instant Axel had smacked against the floor. A spear had found its way right through the horse's side and he fell face first into the cobblestones. The taste of blood was filling his mouth, he could feel the warm thick stream dripping down his lips, his face was numb. Axel didn't turn back for the horse, for his men, for Meryn, for anyone. The bastard who killed his horse tried to go at him with a little short sword. The bald man swung from the top, he let out a horrible croak as he brought the blade down on Axel. The blow was blocked by the plate on Axels forearm and he quickly launched his plated elbow into his attacker's jaw. The mans legs gave out from under him and he flopped to the ground. Axel took his sheathed dagger and opened the man's throat, blood squirting all over him. He didn't know where his sword went and didn't care. He raced down the street trying to escape the bloodshed, terrified, he threw off his helmet so he could see. As Axel was wiping the blood from his face, he was hit with that felt like the force of a carriage going full speed against his chest. The breath from his lungs left him; the air unable fill his chest, his mouth and eyes wide open. A man appeared above him, he looked familiar… _Bronn, its Bronn!_ "You fucking traitor!" Axel said in a low failing voice, just getting his breath back.

"Easy now, lad" said Bronn of the Blackwater as he brought a spiked mace down on Axels skull…

**I. Maekar **

"One more round" urged Alton Blacktyde. "It's yours now, Greyjoy."

"What!? I just got the last one!" Said Maekar. "This Ghiscari wine tastes like piss as it is, anyway, I shouldn't have another, I have a royal appointment today."

"The Others take your appointment! We should be spending our last day here drinking and whoring till our hearts content." Said Alton, drinking the last drop of his wine.

"Would that I could." Maekar was sick of the endless appointments, but that was the price he had to pay for a company of troops and ships to take him back to the Iron Islands. He had been away from his home for a few years now, having to flee before Septon Ardon Stakely could take his head, like he had taken his fathers, Euron.

"Try asking him for more men while you're there" said Jon the pike in his low, grizzly voice.

"I'm with the pike on that one, it would do us good to have a larger host" said Tom of Holyhall.

"I've tried that more times than I care to count, Loras will not budge." Replied Maekar to his companions' suggestions. They had the right of it though, five thousand men was all he could muster in his years in exile, including the ships to take them on the long voyage back to Westeros. His small army consisted of one thousand ironborn levies and several of their own long ships as well as some war galleys from the Iron Fleet. Two thousand Maidens Men commanded by Jon 'the pike', and two thousand Ghiscari soldiers from Mereen that were provided by High King Loras Tyrell.

"Ask him if we can take his sister with us, Greyjoy" Alton jested. "Or better yet, tell him we took twenty young boys from Lys as thralls, then he'll sail with the full might of Mereen beside us!"

"I'm definitely with Blacktyde on that one!" Said Tom.

"For the boys or for Margaery? I can't quite tell" Maekar and the rest of the table couldn't help but let out some laughter. They were probably the loudest table in The White Lily, a small winesink near the food market in Mereen. It was a modest establishment to say the least, not the kind of place that would be graced with the presence of Mereens elite. The air was dusty, the walls had cracks in them, and the atmosphere was filled by song and the tales told by the rogues and other misfits who made up The White Lily's patrons.

"We should watch our tongues" said Maekar Greyjoy, "these places are notorious for hosting spies." Maekar was bad for letting his tongue loose sometimes, but Alton Blacktyde was a reckless fellow, especially after a few cups of wine or ale down him. A true ironborn if ever there was one, he had acquired a fierce reputation as a reaver when he was sixteen, he was now only eighteen, only three years younger than Maekar, and still taller than most men. He had fair short hair, green eyes and a fair medium length beard; with a better face than most ironborn reavers. _His reputation had inflated his ego, and made him careless_, thought Maekar.

"Calm down, we're only jesting" Alton said, "well I'm calling that scullion over to get us another round of this Ghiscari wine, you sure you don't want one, Greyjoy?"

"I'm sure."

"Ha! Shame we can't get you that blue shite you gulp down so much!" Alton laughed as he waved the young serving girl over to refill the cups with the old Ghiscari vintage.

_A shame indeed_. His father, Euron, had introduced him to it in his adolescence. He had always been more learned than his brothers. The wine of the warlocks, _Shade of the Evening._ It had turned his lips blue. His trimmed black beard had made his blue lips less obvious to the world, but it was noticeable, nevertheless. It had a better effect on the mind than did normal wine in Maekar's opinion. It oft gave strange visions that had traces of truth in them, if one was clever enough to interpret the signs. Could it have been messages from the Gods? A warlock's trick? He did not know.

"Its better than the shite you're drinking right now" Maekar said. "I ought to get going and leave you boys to it, I assume you'll be around the harbour after this business is done."

"That we will" Tom of Holyhall said. Giving Alton a nudge on the arm "Mayhaps we should pay a visit to that pleasure house as a final farewell to Mereen?"

"We'll need more wine."

Jon the pike rose, "I'll walk with you, Maekar, I must assemble my men waiting outside the walls and load them onto these ships we've hired."

"Very well." Maekar said. They left The White Lily and walked towards the market, where the path to the Great pyramid of Mereen led. The market was teeming with life. Merchants selling all types of food were present, from whole dogs on long skewers being rolled on top of a thick stone oven to honey glazed pigs. The fresh succulent smell of the meats filled his nose. He eyed a merchant selling crispy honeyed locusts from a big basket, and another on a further stall selling a whole range of insects including larvae, crickets, and big crunchy fried spiders to be dipped in a variety of spices depending on the buyer's choice, and he could hear a dozen more vendors shouting in the local tongue. The crowded streets did not help with the heat. It was always summer in Slavers Bay, even the loose white linen shirt Maekar was wearing did not help ease the sweat, though he regretted putting on his brown jerkin over it, as well as his black breeches. The sun brightly beamed down on the city all day, the pyramids of Mereen reflecting its rays from their golden tips. Maekar had his brown hair cut short on the back and sides with a little more remaining on the top to keep his head cool.

"Forgive me, but how is it a Tyrell became the king of Mereen, and his family and court now reside in that massive pyramid?" Jon the pike asked curiously.

Maekar laughed, "Have you been living under a rock the past ten years? Or perhaps a river?"

"I haven't been in Westeros or Slavers Bay for quite some time, my work has oft taken me around the Free Cities, last I heard the Tyrells ruled the Reach for King Robert, the Stag King."

"The Tyrells ruled the Reach, until my late father Euron seized that responsibility for himself."

Jon looked confused now.

"Yes, there is bad blood between the Greyjoys of Pyke and the Tyrells of Highgarden. Our good king Loras here was a kingsguard for king Joffrey, then for king Tommen, and then for Queen Daenerys. She had sent her husband Aegon back to Mereen with two of her kingsguard, Ser Loras and Ser Perwyn Frey, to get her other two dragons that she had left here to bring them back and consolidate her power in Westeros, I imagine. It didn't go to plan for him though and for whatever reason Loras killed Aegon as well as Ser Perwyn. I'm not sure on his reasons exactly, but one thing we can see is that he certainly benefited from it." Answered Maekar.

"…And he brought his whole family over to share in their new riches?" Asked Jon again.

"Not his whole family, he brought his sister Margaery and several courtiers from the Reach, but his brothers remain there, I believe." Maekar said, hoping that was an end to these short history lessons. Jon the pike didn't come across as very clever to Maekar, or perceptive. He was an exile from the Riverlands banished for stealing from villages near the rivers and sailing off in his little boat down stream in the dead of night. Jon was at the ripe age of forty-five, with shaggy chestnut hair and a brown goatee peppered with grey hairs. He had a hard face, one that you knew had seen combat many times, with bags under his brown eyes. He was a few inches taller than Maekar and had a broader chest and thicker arms.

"What about the dragons then? Are they still here?"

"I don't think so, or else id surely have seen or even heard about them by now" Maekar said, still shoving past the crowded streets as they left the market square and headed toward the Pyramid. _If only they were here_.

"That's a shame, id have liked to see a dragon before I died" Jon said as he was glancing at the various buildings that surrounded the pair.

The dragons were why Maekar and his men came to Mereen in the first place. He had been in possession of Eurons Dragonbinder as well as his Valyrian steel armour. It was all aboard his ship, The Silence. The ship was docked at a tiny makeshift port on a river near Ashford, it had been under Maekar's protection while Euron was touring the grand castles of the Reach. The Septon Ardon Stakely had raised a rebellion with some other lords in secret, being united through their faith to the seven. Just as his father Euron had heard of the revolt it was too late and he was kidnapped by conspirators, his guards murdered. As soon as Maekar heard about the revolt he took The Silence, sailed it down the Mander to the Shield islands and quickly took the garrisons with him to Mereen.

They bantered on as they were in the shadow of the Great Pyramid of Mereen, the residence of the High King Loras Tyrell. That was where Jon had left Maekar to turn toward the main gate, and Maekar had proceeded towards the Great Pyramid, it was the biggest building he had ever seen, and the most impressive, standing over eight hundred feet high with a golden harpy perched on the top with its shining wings spread out. After being allowed entry through the main gates, he was escorted through the pyramid by a Ghiscari servant who had led him up past the main audience chamber further to the apex of the pyramid where there were more private quarters. The cool air inside the pyramid washed over Maekar, the thick walls kept the heat out.

The servant knocked on a large gilded wooden door, and the guards from within opened it. This was one of the bigger apartments Maekar was being hosted in, the ceiling was high, the door was flanked by white marble columns, the room having purple marble walls. The door on the opposite end of the room ahead of him leading into a balcony-garden that overlooked the city was open, allowing the suns light to illuminate the rich, vibrant room, it was flanked by two sculptures of nude women extending their arms. Loras and Margaery Tyrell were sat on some large lavish pieces of furniture in the middle of the room helping themselves to a tray of exotic fruits. There was another man there Maekar did not recognise, a pale skinny man clad head to toe in black and purple robes. "Greyjoy" Loras exclaimed, barely looking up as he said it. _He still hates me._ Margaery gave him the warmer welcome "Please have a seat Lord Maekar."

Maekar gave her a smile. "I don't think I am a lord, my Lady."

"A courtesy, but you will be a king soon? If all goes to plan." Margaery said.

"If all goes to plan." He repeated.

Margaery had kept the Westerosi fashion at court. She wore a turquoise gown with white roses embroiled over it, the gown was low cut and left little to the imagination, which proved to be quite distracting when discussing matters of state. She wore her soft brown hair in the same fashion as Westerosi lady's as well, and it flowed gracefully passed her shoulders. A man would not have guessed she was in her mid-thirties, she still didn't look a day over twenty. Her brother on the other hand looked like he was twenty years her elder, despite being only a year older. Maekar suspected the stresses of power had taken their toll on him. Loras was wearing a golden wreath crown, he had taken the Ghiscari fashion, wearing a light green Tokar with golden stripes along the edges that was gemmed with emeralds and pearls which neatly wrapped itself around him. Maekar sank into the soft Myrish cushion and helped himself to a grape "So what can I do for you, your Grace?"

"We need to make some things clear before you set sail. Remember that you must not molest the lands of the Reach on your way back to your islands, it would not help our cause if we are seen to be funding Ironborn reavers." Loras said.

"They are like to have their ships docked at the Arbor and the Shield Islands, surely if my fleet took them by surprise it would make sense to put them all to the torch?" Maekar said, helping himself to more grapes.

"Do you take me for a fool, Greyjoy? I will not have my Kingdom at the mercy of your pirates when we arrive." Loras said, now looking him straight in the eyes.

"Forgive my brother" Margaery said, "we have not been entirely honest with you, but we had to keep this a secret."

"What are you talking about?" Maekar asked in confusion.

A smug smile now appeared on Loras' face "Did you really think we were funding this expedition of yours so that you could get those rocks back for yourself?"

_No, I didn't_. Maekar had suspected he was being moved around like a pawn in a higher game, but since they had given him money and men, he didn't stop to ask too many questions. His only part in this was to take the Iron Islands back, his home, his Kingdom.

Loras continued, not waiting for an answer, "You will get to your islands and distract this Ardon Stakely, make him move to fight you and we will come with our army and take the Reach back while it is undefended, we don't have as much men as the Septon, but once we arrive the lords of the Reach will rally behind us. Then once his head has been mounted on a spike, you may have your home and we may have ours, and we need not speak to each other ever again."

"Very well" Maekar said, "you forget that the Septon still controls my Iron Fleet, I know not where it is docked, but if I see it, I will either destroy it myself or take it back." Maekar could see Loras' patience beginning to wear thin, he was treading on thin ice now.

"I'm warning you, Greyjoy…" Loras began.

Maekar cut him off before he could continue, the tension in the room was high now, a whole generations hatred coming to boiling point. "I know you don't trust me, your grace. After all, my father invaded your home, killed your bannermen and pillaged your lands, and you think I have the same intentions after this mess is dealt with."

"You're right, my only regret is that I couldn't take Eurons head off his shoulders myself." Loras said.

Before he could say anything else Maekar intervened one more time "When I take my home back ill give you one of my brothers as a hostage, as well as the money you have generously given me for my expedition, but I want my fleet back or I will see it burned at my hand, take it or leave it." He lied. _I have him now_.

Maekar knew that himself and Loras had a common enemy in Septon Ardon Stakely. He was the current occupant of both the Iron Islands and the Reach, the Kingdom that his father Euron had created with fire and sword. The man who had forced him to leave home. Tales of Loras' nocturnal activities had been common knowledge in the Reach, for which reason the Septon refused to cede power back to the Tyrells of Highgarden, until Loras' sat before a court of Septons to face the Fathers justice. Like Loras, Maekar had no great love for Euron Greyjoy either. He was a cold, ruthless man who used everyone to his own ends.

"Boys, please" Margaery said in her soft-subtle voice, now turning to Loras. "I think Lord Greyjoy here means well, after all, are we not all exiles who just want to go home?"

"Fine" Loras gave in. "But I warn you, Greyjoy, the Reach well never fall so meekly to conquest as it did last time, so don't even think about it. We'll take that hostage after Ardon Stakely is a corpse." Loras continued, "anyway, I want to get on with what we brought you here for. This man sat with us is Wendello Qar Deeth representing a Merchant Guild from Qarth. He was in the city and I invited him in should you want some extra funding for supplies, it is a long voyage, and he has agreed already to loan you some money, with interest of course, should you agree to it."

The tension eased. "I suppose I should." Maekar said, not thinking much of it. Loras clapped and a servant came hurrying in carrying a tray that had an ink pot and a quill on it. Maekar shook the pale Wendellos hand and he brought forth a parchment from his robes. _I'm trading paper for armies, ships and kingdoms_, Maekar thought. After it was signed the skinny Qartheen man gave Maekar a dark purple sachet full of shiny gold and silver coins neatly stacked in iron holders. Maekar was dismissed shortly after, Margaery personally offered to escort him down some of the stairs until he was in the main hall. "I'll ask the question again, but now that we have been more honest with each other, perhaps I'll get a different answer, I'm very curious, what happened to the dragons?" It was a question Maekar had asked a thousand times before, all with the same vague answers.

Margaery looked at him and laughed "Yes I suppose we were being cryptic with everyone about that topic, but since either of us won't be staying in Mereen for very long after today I suppose there's no harm in saying it. The dragons went missing years ago, if it wasn't obvious already."

"How?" Maekar asked.

"Aegon had managed to tame the white one, Viserion I think it was called. After that he didn't want to keep them locked under the Pyramid anymore so he set the other one free, thinking it would stay near by for its brother. Then Loras…" She hesitated for a moment. "Loras…"

"Killed him" Maekar finished for her.

"Yes, my brother killed his king, like the King slayer many years ago." She said as she looked down at the floor. "The dragons just flew away after that, somewhere in the great grass sea many think, but we have not seen them since."

_She is ashamed of him. _The topic clearly made Margaery uncomfortable, so he dared not dig any deeper. She escorted him towards the gate of the Pyramid, where he bid her farewell and she wished Maekar luck on his voyage. The day was still bright as Maekar Greyjoy left the Great Pyramid of Mereen. A wave of emotions rushed over him as he began his walk to the harbour where _The Silence_ was docked. He felt excited to be going home, to claim his birth right, to become _Iron King Maekar Greyjoy, King of Salt and Rock, Lord Reaper of Pyke, Lord Reaver of the Iron Islands, and Son of the Sea Wind, _and to see his brothers again. _Right now I am King of nothing, Lord Reaper of debts_, Maekar thought. He was familiar with disappointment, disappointed that he didn't get to see the dragons, much less claim one. He had travelled all this way for nothing, only to come away with a miniscule army of five thousand men. How would he ever stand against the might of the Reach and the Iron Islands with that? He oft wondered.

**II. Osbert **

A broken wagon lay within sight on the road ahead, surrounded by a group of frustrated men. A pothole had sent the wheel crashing off. Osbert gave his stallion a kick and stopped beside the wagon. "Need a hand?" He said.

A blonde man with an aged face and a trimmed moustache that could only be the face of Lord Russel Ashford turned to look up at him "Ahh, the young lord Tarly! I Need a few!" he said as he stretched out his back. Osbert was familiar with Lord Ashford, he had visited his castle a few times as a child with his lord-father Randyll, he used to give him sweets when his father wasn't looking.

Osbert Tarly dismounted his horse to help Lord Russel and his men hammer the wheel back into place. "That should do it, many thanks" Russel exclaimed. Osbert Tarly had been used to getting his hands dirty, there was always things breaking down in soldiers' camps, and he always had to be the first to fix it. Lord Randyll Tarly had raised him to be a soldier, after all.

He glanced back to see if the rest of his party had caught up, it wasn't a large host, just Joseph Hunt and a few guards holding the banners of House Tarly. Osbert had noticed the gamekeeper in Lord Ashford's party, with his long hunting bow and a string of dead forest critters hanging from his belt. "Brought game for his Holiness I see?" Osbert said. He had to be careful not to get himself dirty, he had chosen a red silk shirt with a darker red leather jacket to go over it. On his legs he wore brown woollen breeches and brown leather boots. He had to look presentable today, it was the day he had to swear fealty to the new master of the Reach.

"Aye, more where that came from." Lord Ashford said as he swung the cloth over covering the wagon. Osbert looked over at the dead deer in the wagon, the smell of death hit him soon enough.

"Fine shot in that one, right in the heart, instant death?" Osbert asked as he observed the dead deer.

"Perceptive hunter you are, aye, my son Leo hit this one." Russel Ashford answered.

"A Tarly should be, as the red huntsman on my banner suggests."

"By the Seven I must say Osbert, you have grown!" Lord Ashford said. The last time Ashford had seen Osbert he was a boy, with long wavy hair and a clear face, now he was a man grown, with short brown hair and a black moustache and beard that just covered his chin. "You boys heading to Oldtown I take it?"

"His Holiness has summoned us, we answer the call." The raven came a fortnight ago. Septon Ardon Stakely wanted the high lords of the Reach at Oldtown with all haste. He had been hard riding for seven days from the wooded foothills around Horn Hill. It would be the first time Osbert Tarly would meet the Septon who had taken the Reach back from the Ironborn and systematically chased them from the land.

"We'll ride together then." Lord Ashford said. "I'm sorry to hear about your father, Osbert, he always was a good friend and a damn good soldier at that."

"Thank you, Lord Ashford. He always told me that the Tarly's were the finest soldiers in the Reach, he worked tirelessly so that I would continue that legacy. He left me too young I sometimes fear" Osbert said. Osbert was a lord at the age of nineteen now, his old father Randyll had passed a year ago in his sleep.

"Nonsense! You Tarlys are tough to kill, even Robert Baratheon couldn't accomplish that. You know I'm always a few days ride up north if you need any help, son." Russel reassured him.

They rode on the muddy Roseroad, surrounded by fresh fields and leafless trees. _It's getting warmer now, the winter is coming to an end. _He could see the Honeywine in the distance, the massive river that went straight through Oldtown. This was the river that made these lands so rich and fertile, the agricultural capital of the Reach. Osbert had spotted the Hightower of Oldtown hours ago, the tower that the city was built around, the tower that guided the ships into the harbour, and the seat of House Hightower itself. The gates to Oldtown soon appeared before them, attached to the massive thick stone walls that protected the city. When the watchers spotted the Red Huntsman on the green banner dancing in the wind along with Lord Ashford's banners, they immediately opened the gate. The city was massive, people walking in every direction, carriages moving up and down the cobblestone streets, and grey stone buildings high and low flanking them on every direction. Guildhalls, alehouses, inns, shops, and temples, the ancient city of Oldtown had it all.

He had left Lord Ashford and his party at the gate as they travelled slower with the wagon. "Let's dismount and walk on foot from here" Osbert said.

"Good idea, my thighs are raw, been on horseback too long." Joe replied. The road to Oldtown was long and they didn't have time to stop for leisurely strolls. They instructed the two bannermen to find a stable for the horses and await their return.

Osbert hoped he could remember where the Starry Sept was, he knew it was at the lower end of the city but manoeuvring through the city's maze of wynds and lively streets was another matter entirely. He had last been here when he was a boy, many years ago. They headed towards the centre of the city first where the Honeywine flowed right through, and followed the cobbled path down towards the Starry Sept. He could see the plaza of the Sept past the congregation of stone buildings that stood in his path, as well as the lavish mansions that the pious men occupied around it. A lot of locals were gathered in the plaza, so they decided to get down there quickly. As they walked past the entrance to the plaza that was flanked by the Septons holy warriors, the knights wearing white gilded armour with the seven-pointed star hammered into the breastplate, they had seen a line of people waiting to be condemned on the block. The Septon, Ardon Stakely, was stood on a block above everyone else reading from his list of people that were being sent to die. He had short messy black hair, and a moustache that pointed upwards at the tips. His face was chubby, but the rest of his body was broad, Osbert could even tell that through his white loose robes.

"Eustace of Oldtown! Condemned for conspiring with the heathens!" Septon Ardon shouted. "Jeyne Flowers! Condemned for trying to seduce a Septon! Martyn for having sympathy for the Drowned Demon!" These were only common men and women, he continued reading the list for some time before the men were escorted away from the plaza, he could not profane this holy place by killing men here. The Septons knights took the men and women in chains to some Gallows further down the path, still in view just outside of the Septs plaza, where they were strung up, asked to say some final words, and then hung. Their bodies wriggled, struggling, for a few moments before the life left them; and it wasn't long before the crows were at their fresh corpses. _A warm welcome_, Osbert thought. The spectators cleared the area and the lords and ladies summoned approached the Starry Sept to seek their audience with the Septon. Although the Starry Sept was not as big as Baelor's Sept in Kings Landing, the size of the building was enormous. It was made from black marble, with massive arched stained-glass windows lighting the inside, the nave led into a massive circular dome, which then had seven aisles spouting from the dome each with towers on the end. There were statues of each of the Seven in the dome area which was past the nave, but then aisles each led to a tower with a more magnificent white marble statue of each of the Seven. The complexity and detail of the work around the exterior of the Sept amazed Osbert.

They approached the Septs huge doors, but before being let in the guards stopped them. "Who goes here?" The full plated man asked.

"Lord Osbert Tarly of Horn Hill, and his sworn sword Ser Joseph Hunt. The Septon has summoned me." He Said.

"That would be his Holiness, to you. It is you who his Holiness wants to see, not him, he waits outside." The guard said.

Osbert turned around and glanced at Joseph and gave him a nod, "Very well." He said. He then entered the Sept.

An old bald man with a long grey and white beard wearing a brown wool robe approached him. "Hello, my lord, I trust you are here to see his Holiness Septon Ardon?" The bald man said. "My name is Septon Aubrey, my Lord." He said as he took Osberts hand.

"Hello, yes I'm here to see his Holiness" Osbert said. The old man Aubrey smelt of shit, and the palms of his hands felt coarse.

Septon Aubrey escorted him through the nave to the main hall. The colossal black marble arches towering over them, meeting at the top right above their heads, drinking in the light that shown through the arched windows. "I believe you are the last one, my lord." Aubrey said.

"I think Lord Ashford still needs to come, he arrived with me, but I did not see him in the plaza." Osbert replied.

"Very well, my lord, I will see that he makes his way here shortly."

The high lords of the Reach were sat in the main hall, _the powerful ones_, with the Septon and his zealots sat high above them. Present was the brothers Willas and Garlan Tyrell, Willas sitting with his walking stick next to him. These two wanted to be here the least, stripped of most of their titles and only remaining with Highgarden, their brother Loras and sister Margaery away in exile, both wanted for crimes against the Faith. Then there was Lord Humfrey Hightower, the young Lord Allester Florent with his guardian Ser Hosman Norcross, Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove, Lady Dalla Meadows, Lady Jennelyn Redwyne of the Arbor and just coming from behind was Lord Ashford, the last lord to come. Septon Ardon Stakely looked over them all as they were sat in the main hall from his pulpit. Osbert had a much better look at him now, he was in his forties, the bull-necked man looked even bigger and more imposing up close, his cold grey eyes were unforgiving. The crystal of his order waved slightly from his neck, reflecting rays of rainbows around him as the light passed through it.

"Seven blessings, now that we are all here, we may begin." Ardon said. "The responsibility of protecting the Reach fell on me some years ago, yet I am only meeting some of you for the first time now. Purging the land of heathens does not leave me much time for anything else. I am already familiar with some of you, you know who you are. And I shall be honoured to get to know the rest of you." Septon Ardon stepped down from the pulpit and approached the lords. "Lord Tarly, Lady Redwyne, and Lord Florent, come forward and kneel, the Faith will have your oaths of fealty. Ser Symon, I require your sword." _I don't have much of a choice, do I?_ Osbert thought. The lords and lady each stepped forward and knelt before his Holiness. The plate clad warrior unsheathed his sword and got on one knee for the Septon as he raised the sword above his head. Septon Ardon dropped a bit of the seven oils on the sword and took it from the knight's hand. "Repeat after me" Ardon said. "I swear by the Seven this sacred oath"

They repeated simultaneously.

"That I shall be unconditionally obedient to the will of the gods, and that I recognise his holiness, Septon Ardon Stakely, as among their chief messengers in this world."

They repeated. The rainbow shining from the Septons crystal now met Osberts eyes.

"I will give the Fathers justice, I will give the Mothers mercy, I will be the Warriors sword, I will give the Smiths protection, I will uphold the Maidens innocence, I will be the Crones wisdom, and I will give the Strangers gift to all who dare break the holy laws." He continued. "I declare that at all times I shall be ready, as a servant of the Gods, to lay down my life for this oath." The Septon finished.

They repeated finally. The Septon pressed the sword on each of their shoulders and gave them each a sprinkle of holy water. They all stepped up to face his Holiness. "The other good lords here have proved their loyalty to the faith, I would ask of you to do the same." Said Septon Ardon.

"What would you have us do?" Osbert asked.

Ardon glanced over at the young Lord Allester Florent "Lord Florent is too young for this task, I will have him stay here in Oldtown for the time being. You and Lady Jennelyn are to go to The Ring, north-east of Goldengrove, to root out Dagon 'the lazy' Ironmaker. It is the last castle the Ironborn possess in the Reach, and there are surrounding holdfasts and villages still held by the Ironborn around the ring. The influence of the drowned demon will remain so long as the Ironborn hold even one acre of land in the Reach, root them out and destroy them."

_My first test._ "Yes, your Holiness. Might I say what would Lady Jennelyns part be in all this? Surely a battlefield is no place for a woman." Osbert said.

"We are all equal servants of the seven, I'm not asking her to fight in the vanguard, Lord Tarly, just to help in whatever way she can, I'm sure you both can think of something." Ardon said.

They stepped back and the Septon walked back up to his pulpit again. "Lord Ashford, step forward." He commanded. "As lord of Ashford it was your responsibility to take _The Black Kraken_ while he was in your lands as the holy liberation took place, you failed in this, why?"

The shock on Lord Ashford's face was clear as day, he struggled for any words at first "Your holiness" he said, "they stripped me of the title, The Black Kraken was occupying my castle, I wasn't there!" he cried out.

The Septons cold eyes never left him "The Black Kraken practices all sorts of queer magic, letting him escape was a mistake, a very dangerous one. This is something the gods cannot forgive." There were always rumours that Eurons son had delved into strange magic, Osbert did not know if there was any truth to them, he had always thought it was just Eurons dark reputation clinging to him.

"Your Holiness please! It wasn't my fault!" Russel Ashford cried. Osbert could see Lord Ashford trying to hide the fear on his face, but he could hear it in his voice.

Ser Symon punched Lord Ashford in the gut, and he fell to the floor, then two of the Septons other knights dragged him off toward the aisle of the Stranger. "Surely you can't mean to arrest the man for that! He said he wasn't even there!" Osbert protested.

The Septon turned around and gave him an unforgiving glare as his other Knights quickly stepped forward beginning to unsheathe their swords, the whole room was surrounded by the plated zealots. "You dare question the will of the Gods Lord Tarly? I warn you against giving me cause to doubt your devotion."

Before Osbert could speak for his old friend, he and Lady Jennelyn were quickly dismissed by the Septon to set forth on their quest while the rest of the Lords remained in the room. "_The gods cannot forgive"_ the Septon said. Osberts could feel his gut twisting, he couldn't help but feel worried for his friend, it was the Strangers aisle they dragged him down. _The Stranger means death_. Maybe that's just where the dungeons beneath the Sept may have been, but he did not know.

"Did you know him?" Lady Jennelyn Redwyne asked as they stepped outside of the Sept.

"Russel Ashford was a friend of my fathers, and mine, though I didn't know him as well. He didn't deserve that." Osbert said as his head hung low. The clouds had cleared up now and the day was bright, and a lot warmer with the wind calming down, though this did not reflect Osberts dark mood. He looked around for Joe as they walked into the plaza, he had an average face with normal features and blue eyes, his hair was shaved very short all round, almost bald.

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss. It seemed us two and little Lord Florent were the youngest there." Said Jennelyn. Osbert had noticed that too, Jennelyn was three years younger than him at sixteen, and Allester Florent was only thirteen. The great war for the dawn had claimed the lives of many lords, leaving a lot of younger lords in their place, having to learn to grow up quickly. The pair caught up with Joe Hunt and briefed him on the days events as they left the plaza and walked among the streets.

"Thank you. Will you be joining us on the expedition, my Lady?" Osbert asked. Jennelyn looked the part of a Lady. Her red wavy hair flowed straight past her shoulders, she had a clear, beautiful face with sapphire-blue welcoming eyes. She was shorter than Osbert but had a grown woman's figure. She was wearing a dark-blue coat lined with fox fur, under which was a deep-purple dress embroiled with amethysts, sapphires and pearls.

"Doesn't seem I have much choice, do I?" Jennelyn Redwyne jibed. "I'll be heading back to the Arbor and ill sail some ships with my men-at-arms aboard up to Goldengrove we can join our forces there and deal with these Ironmen. You'll be marching there I take it?"

"That I will my Lady, it's a long march up to Goldengrove and ill have to summon my bannermen." Osbert said.

"Last one there storms the gates?" She gave him a wink as she japed.

_She's greener than the grass on the fields. _"You're a lively one aren't you, I'll have to make all haste then!" He replied. Lady Redwyne made her way to the harbour and Osbert and Joe went back up to find their horses, it was a long march back to Horn Hill.

**III. Raymund **

It was already past dawn when he had woken. _I'll miss breakfast if I don't hurry_, Raymund Tyrell thought. Life had since gotten more difficult for the non-believers at The Wall, after the fire worshippers had seized it. It was a great irony, or maybe even a comfort at times, having pyromaniacs running the Nights-watch, they certainly kept the place warm. They made sure that those who did not adjust to the new order felt the cold, though, this was a feeling Raymund was familiar with. His warm breath was like a plume of smoke in the dull, down-trodden stone apartment, the morning draft quickly embraced him and sent goose-bumps along his flesh. He put on his layers of black wool and old leather, his thick woollen fur cloak and black boots, gave his lengthy brown hair and beard a quick comb and made his way out of the barracks. Raymund had resembled his distant Tyrell cousins he had oft been told long ago, only in looks though, not in fighting ability or prestige, which often haunted his mind.

The chill was even worse outside, he could hear the crunch of the snow under his boots with every step he took. He made for the Shieldhall with all haste. The brothers at Castle Black took their meals in the Shieldhall now that its numbers had swelled again. The Nights Watch boasted well more than ten thousand men now, with every castle on the wall repaired and re-maned. It had regained its prestige after the Great War for the Dawn, with volunteers from all over the realm eager to join, _and yet I was sold here, _Raymund Tyrell couldn't even boast that he joined the watch for honour. An Ironborn lord had taken his keep and taken all the men whom surrendered as thralls, and then sold them to whoever would take them, it just happened to be a Nights Watch recruiter. _I was craven, and this is my punishment. _

He entered the Shieldhall, most of the brothers that occupied the castle were breaking their fast on beef and root vegetable stew with bread and hard cheese. The walls of the great dark stone hall were lined with the shields of the brothers who had joined the watch, it was a vibrant pattern of colours and different sigils ranging from eagles, bears, flowers, trees and weapons on fields of blue, yellow, red and others, _but no golden rose on a green field_. He took a bowl and spoon and approached the iron pot sitting over a low flame and helped himself to a generous portion of stew. Raymund eyed his friends sitting on the far-side of the hall and went over to sit with them.

"Morning Raymund, slept in again?" said Rogar the Uncouth. He had been given that nickname with good reason, the man and his clothes constantly stunk of sweat.

"Forgot to bathe again, Rogar?" Jibed Raymund. "I don't know how everyone in this castle wakes so early." He dipped some hard bread into the stew and took a big chunk out of it.

"We didn't grow up little lordlings like you, some of us had to look out for ourselves." Vayon Mossfoot said as he laughed. "Besides, my bird wakes me." Mossfoot was always up the earliest, it was the falcon that he always kept around him, though not by any force. Raymund oft wondered why it never just flew off. Vayon was a wildling from beyond-the-wall who had joined the watch to fight the Others in the Great War.

"Aye it wakes all of us. You can hear the damn thing screech across the entire floor." Hother said. It never woke Raymund though, his apartment was away from those of his peers, so he was always the last to arrive. Hother resembled the average Northman, a stern face, not ugly, with long dark-brown hair and a long dark brown beard, he was at an age of forty-five.

"Mayhaps ill start keeping more birds, add an eagle or two to my collection, there's too many crows around here already." Said Vayon Mossfoot. He did have a strange way with animals, now he only had the falcon as his companion, but he had been known to attract all manor of forest critters, they could be seen following him round the castle or flying near him. The Nights Watch had grown more tolerant of wildlings since the Great Hero Jon Snow had let them past The Wall eighteen years ago to fight alongside the Watch in the Great War. Indeed, many wildlings now made up its ranks, although the bulk of them once again returned north-of-the-wall when the Others were defeated. Jon Snow fell in the fighting, he had become a martyr, Raymund thought, and his name would live on for eternity, and the men and women of the realm would sing songs about his triumphs.

The Lord Commander smashed his horn three times against the dais for silence. Lord Commander Mors Westford was a mammoth of a man. At sixty-nine years old he could still swing his great sword with ease and could easily split a man in half. He had some wisps of grey hair still left on the top of his head, and short grey hair around the rest of it. His pale clean-shaven face was full of creases and wrinkles, but it was emotionless to match his pale eyes. He had been resurrected in the Great War by a red priest after having an Other's crystal sword go through his heart, and ever since then he has been a zealous follower of the Red God, and he made sure to fill his council with such men as well. To be sure, it didn't help that Stannis and his men had been camped on the wall, that would have only helped speed up the radicalization of the Watch, but now the top echelons of the Walls authority were followers of the Red God.

"For today's announcements, brothers, we have received reports that there is a new King beyond the wall. Though this shouldn't pose as much of a threat as it might have done in the old days, we will remain vigilant and investigate. First Ranger Rolland will form several ranging parties and set out on the morrow." Lord Commander Mors said.

Multiple shouts of approval along with the sound of horns and cups smashing against wood filled the air.

"As a reward for the continued good work of all the brothers here, I am proud to announce that we have just received several casks of Arbor Gold, red Dornish vintage, sweet ambers from the Summer Isles and the finest rum throughout all of Westeros!" Mors shouted, his deep voice emitted authority. This announcement was greeted with even more cheers. Raymund was cheering along just as loud as the rest of them. It was important to cheer, or else they'd call your loyalty into question. "Ser Raymund, as our well-connected recruiter, you're to go to Kings Landing and find some men for the watch. We may be about fifteen thousand strong currently, but there's still room to grow, and so we shall. Travel there however you like but come back by land and comb the realm of as many men as you can get."

"Yes, Lord Commander." Raymund replied "When am I to leave, and how many men shall I take to accompany me?" Raymund saw the Lord Commander's personal steward, Rynder, tell him something in his ear which had made him chuckle.

Lord Commander Mors looked at Raymund still with a smirk on his face, "As much as we'd like to send you alone with your Seven to keep you company, since you so kindly refuse to accept the true faith. I will allow you to take two brothers."

"Thank you, Lord Commander, I will depart shortly." Raymund replied.

"Very good." The Lord Commander said. The fanatics never failed to remind him about his faith to the Seven, Raymund may have been craven at times, but he could not abandon the faith of his house and his ancestors.

"Who you taking with you this time then?" asked Hother, "You only have three friends, and the commander said you can take two."

It was time for the ritual fight of who got to go with him south. The last time he had taken Vayon and Rogar, but now he had to rotate it to avoid getting an ear-full of complaints. He wanted to take Vayon again, Raymund enjoyed his company the most, and he always took his falcon with him. He would take Vayon and Hother with him, and leave Rogar, he could do without the stench of sweat and body odour the whole journey, and he wouldn't want to put any new recruits off.

"Vayon and Hother will accompany me." Raymund said, waiting for the protest. Hother gave a quick nod as he finished his stew.

"You always take fucking Vayon with you." Rogar said. He was only seventeen yet had a full bushy tan brown beard and long greasy tan hair that was slicked back over his head. He couldn't hide his emotions very well, and his face turned sour every time he was wroth.

"I'm better company, and I don't stink." Vayon said, laughing as he took a sip of water. Vayon was better company. He always had a story to tell from beyond the wall; or would bring some critter from the forest for the men to see. He had a trimmed chestnut-brown beard with brown curly hair to go with it, he was better looking than one would expect for a wildling, with the same nut-brown eyes. He usually wore a brown wool hood and had a bear-hide cloak. He looked younger than twenty-nine as well.

Rogar just sat and sulked as he finished the rest of his meal. "Best finish our food and get ready to head out. I want to be out of here as quickly as possible." Raymund Tyrell suggested.

The trio went and got some provisions ready for the journey. They would be riding to White Harbour by way of Winterfell and then paying for a ship to sail them to Kings Landing. After they got their things together, they made for the stables to get their horses ready, Vayon's falcon circling over them every step of the way. Castle Black wasn't a castle by definition, it was more of a castle-town with the icy wall being the only wall it had. As they rode out of the town Raymund saw the whole North expand around them, a giant icy expanse of field and forest awaited them.

**IV. Lucian **

His legs were aching from their love-making. The Queen wrapped her leg over him and pressed her soft lips against his. "Catch your breath my sweet, I'm not finished with you yet" Myrcella Baratheon said. The smell of the Queens lavender perfume and the firewood from the hearth filled the room. She mounted him and he took her again.

"Now I know what its like to be with a Queen." Lucian Lannister said. They had been married for years now, but this was the first time he had lay with her after her coronation in Casterly Rock. Daenerys Targaryen had executed her brother, Tommen, and her mother, Cersei in Kings Landing ten years ago.

"And I finally know what it's like to have a King" she said as she got up to pour them both a glass of an old Dornish vintage from the cellars of Casterly Rock.

"A king consort" Lucian said.

"You're still a King to me" she replied. She walked back over with the two goblets of wine in hand, still naked. Myrcella had inherited Cersei's beauty and womanly figure, and none of her cruel nature, she was an age of twenty-eight now, with her emerald green eyes and golden long hair. She had some stretch marks near her belly, but no children to show for it as they had died stillborn, to her dismay.

"Is that a true King though?" Lucian said.

"Does it matter? You still sit on my councils, you still advise me, and you are the Hand of the Queen, you have more power than any man could ever dare hope for." She said as she lay next to him again, sinking into the red silk sheets on the feather bed.

_Yes_. It did matter to him. Lucian was born a Lannister, but he wasn't born to _the_ Lannister's, the Lannister's that meant anything. They were all dead now, Tyrion, Jamie, Cersei, all dead. Lancel was celibate and religious, and his siblings were insignificant. Lucian was now married to the Queen, _the true Queen, the legitimate Baratheon_. His children would be born Lannister's, and they would inherit the Iron Throne, but Lucian and Myrcella were yet to have any children that survived infancy. He had been a distant cousin of the main Lannister family. His great grandfather, Jason Lannister, was the brother of Tytos Lannister, "_the toothless lion_" who was the father of Tywin. And now here he was, in their castle, it was his castle now, and he was married to the Queen.

Lucian took a big gulp of wine. "And yet they still mock me in their cups." Myrcella didn't respond to that. He could hear the firewood crackling as the flame roared in the hearth.

"Don't listen to rumours, we will have a child, even if we have to try one thousand times" she said after the silence.

_We must_. His position depended on it, that was the only way to become _the_ Lannister family, to forge _his_ dynasty. Lucian got out of the bed and walked through to the balcony room, the stone columns chiselled out of the rock that made up the castle, the room overlooking the black abyss that was the Sunset Sea, it was pitch black. Further to the side he could see the town of Lannisport, only the lanterns that lit it were visible, like a thriving colony of bright orange ants. The peak of the Rock was crowned with turrets, watchtowers and lavish rooms for the court. The Queens three-floored apartment also sat among the top. The Rock was thrice the size of the Wall in the North, and from the balcony he was standing thousands of feet above ground. The wind howled and thrashed at this height, after cooling himself down Lucian retreated into the main bedroom once again, Myrcella was still lying on the bed. He saw the two big tapestry's hanging from one of the walls, one with the black stag of Baratheon on a golden field and next to it a golden lion of Lannister on a red field.

"I'm still surprised you took the old Baratheon sigil back, now you have to carry both of our banners everywhere, the old one solved this problem." Lucian said as he ran his hand across the soft Myrish fabric of the tapestry.

"Lancel said it would send a better message, Joffrey and my mother blackened the old one, they all told me" Myrcella said. "We need to try to reconcile the neutral kingdoms, the Trident, Vale and the North."

"Did your wise council tell you that as well? They're all too soft, your grandfather would have never taken such an approach." Lucian said. He turned now to sit at the table, staring into the fire in the hearth. "That treacherous coalition will haunt our dynasty for generations, we need to crush them."

"The Tully's don't hold sway over the Trident anymore, Lord Osbert is weak and Lord Rickon is a thousand leagues away, I think friendship with at least the Trident will do us some good." She said, now also getting up from the bed to pour herself more wine.

"Yes, that would be Lord Osney Baelish the fifteen-year old son of Sansa Stark, herself half Tully and is known to have a hatred of our family, and Peter Baelish. Make no mistake, she is the true ruler of the Trident, along with whichever river lords they have helping them, whom also have no love for us." He said. Myrcella now came to join him on the table. She had put on a red silk cape, still exposing the front of her body. "Not to mention Petyr Baelish was a traitor, thank the gods he's dead."

"Osney is coming of age, it would be worth talking to him at the very least. The fact they all didn't rush to Shireen's side is a good sign I think." She said. "And we have the Reach. Lancel has promised this Septon Ardon will help us, at least that's one use for his new fanaticism."

Lucian took the last sip of his wine. "They're dangerous as well, you don't remember the days of the Faith Militant, do you? You were in Dorne, but I do, have you forgotten what they did to your mother?" The Faith Militant had been dealt with by the Tyrells some time before the Targaryen invasion, their High Septon executed and all their filthy soldiers sent to their Gods in pieces.

"Of course I haven't forgotten, I may not have seen it, but I heard stories. These are not the Faith Militant, he's just a Septon. Mayhaps he has amassed more power than he should have, but that's all we have to work with." Myrcella said.

"We're surrounded by enemies, at the very least we should be thankful that he has the Iron Islands on a leash." He said.

He could see the worry on Myrcella's face, her emerald eyes oft spoke more than her mouth. She turned to him, "Do you think we can beat Shireen?"

Lucian hesitated for a moment, "Its hard to say, with the Westerlands and the Reach, maybe. We will have to strike hard and strike first. I will be summoning the lords of the Westerlands on the morrow. And you should write to this Septon in the Reach and demand he sends a portion of his army to be placed directly under our command, then we might just stand a chance. I still don't think the lords of the Trident or the Vale can be counted on."

"At what point does neutrality become treason?" Myrcella said, now resting on Lucians bare chest. "Sometimes I just don't know, my council is at war with itself as much as we are at war with Shireen. I want to try to approach the Riverlands, even a non-aggression pact would do us well."

"Very well" Lucian said "But wh-"

She kissed him, his golden moustache always brushed the top of her lips when she did it. "Let's stop talking of politics and war. I might go and take a walk on the garden terrace." She ran her hand through his wavy golden hair. Even at thirty-eight Lucian Lannister had been considered handsome by many, the queen oft reminded him so. His golden hair had signalled him out as a Lannister well enough, but his eyes were a paler green, not like Myrcella's.

"Its windy tonight" He replied.

"Its always windy" She said. "Walking among the flowers and trees clears my head. Mayhaps ill go visit the Godswood within the mountain. The descent is long and tedious, but the cave is surprisingly beautiful, the weirwood's roots cover the whole place, like ancient white fingers waiting to grab you."

"Maybe the Northerners rubbed off on you more than you thought." Lucian said.

"Gods no, I'm not going to pray to it, its just peaceful and quiet down there and weirwoods are quite rare this far south. Sometimes I wish I were a gardener instead of a Queen, nature is simple, pure and beautiful. Being in its presence gives me tranquillity." Myrcella said.

The Queen got dressed and walked out of the room to be among her trees, leaving Lucian alone with his thoughts. It could get very lonely in this apartment. Even though it was carved out of the mountain that is Casterly Rock, it was still bigger than the average lords keep, and sat far higher than any of them could ever hope to. Lucian went to the stand where _Widow's wail _sat. The valyrian steel sword that Joffrey Baratheon had been gifted from his grandfather Tywin Lannister. Lucian grabbed the golden hilt and took the sword out of the scabbard. The dark red ruby in the hilt gleamed as he moved the sword. Jet-black and blood-red ripples covered the steel, each ripple was unique and never touched another. The sword was half the weight of any Lucian had ever wielded, giving more power to the blow. As he swung it around it felt like a part of his arm, hardly affecting his balance. Myrcella had inherited the sword after Tommen had been executed, they had taken it with them when they fled Kings Landing well over ten years ago. She had kindly given it to her husband, as Lucian knew how to wield it. Having a valyrian steel sword only added to the prestige of his house. Swordplay was one of Lucians great loves in the world, he had always wanted to be better than Jamie Lannister, the kingslayer, and take his place among the great legendary warriors of Westeros. He could swing _Widow's wail_ for hours, the wooden dummies in the armoury were oft hacked to bits by him during his hours of practice. Duty had called him though. He was married to Myrcella in her exile, long before she was the Queen, the great game had begun again, and providence had called on him to take what was his with fire and sword.

**V. Maekar **

The sea was getting choppy now, and the wind blowing harder, cold sea water lashed against Maekar's face as waves crashed against the _Silence's_ dark red hull. He thought a storm may be coming on. Maekar Greyjoy had been no stranger to storms and long voyages, he had served as an oarsman on Lord Gorold Goodbrothers's _Black Warhorn _in his youth and had reaved as far as the Basilisk Isles. He spotted an island in the distance as he was looking down his telescope and proceeded to call Quenton Stonetree over. "Instruct the crew to sail for that island in the far distance and give the signals for the rest of the fleet to follow" Maekar commanded.

"Aye, captain." Quenton replied. Quenton barked out the commands and signalled the rest of the fleet. There were fifty-five ships in Maekar's fleet, to carry five thousand men over to Westeros. It consisted of some war galleys and great long ships from the Iron fleet, with their scorpions and ballistae mounted on the front of the decks. Then there was the Mereenese sell-sails that he'd hired, their fleet being made up of a few war dromons, galleys, great cogs and carracks, they were the bulk of the fleet. There was then a Volantine slave hulk that they had intercepted and captured, a behemoth of a ship with six decks and a very large hold. They had killed the crew and offered the slaves freedom so long as they sailed in their fleet, any who refused were set free in the ocean. Other ships that were unfortunate enough to get caught by the fleet had been a fat-bellied Ibbenese whaler and some trading cogs.

Maekar looked back, seeing the squadron of ships that were part of his group. Further in the distance was Alton Blacktyde's _Nightflyer_, the great longship had a silver figurehead in the shape of a dragon with its mouth wide open, its black and green sails for the colour of house Blacktyde caught the wind. Alton had been assigned his own squadron to follow behind Maekar's, each had over twenty ships. The sky was a purple and orange blaze as dusk settled, he retreated into the captain's quarters. Tom of Holyhall was sat at the desk looking over a map of southern Essos, he raised his eyes slightly, "Captain."

Maekar went over to join him on the table. "Evening Tom, care to tell me where we are?" He said, picking up a slice of apple out of the fruit bowl.

"If my navigation is right, which it usually is, we shouldn't be far from the coast of the Valyrian Peninsula, though we are still days away from the ruins themselves." Tom said.

The room was getting dark, it caught as much light as one could want, with its rows of windows along the back of the room. It was an average sized room, occupied by the large desk that the captain currently sat at with Tom, a large featherbed with black and gold linen sheets and a variety of Myrish and Lysine carpets and tapestries taken from many reavings, Maekar had paid the iron price for them. There were some books on the shelf next to the bed, he would oft read to send himself to sleep at sea, the books had to be bought with the gold price. "I've commanded the fleet to stop at an island I spotted not far from here, I can feel a storm coming on and id rather not lose half my men before we reach Westeros" Maekar said.

"You'll have no complaints from me, we should have a drink seen as we're stopping for the night, shall we have some wine fetched up?" Tom said, rolling the map up and storing it in a cupboard.

"There is no wine, you'll have to ask if any of the other ships have some when we reach land, there is rum I believe, I prefer ale myself."

"Seven hells, I suppose I can make do, where's that dammed serving woman, we need some candles lit in here as it is." Tom said as he returned to the table, wiping his tired eyes.

"Narra I think she's called, or Narrsa, I'm terrible with names." Maekar said.

"We never ran out of wine in the Reach." Tom said, seemingly forgetting about the serving woman. "The cellars were always full of the finest vintages from all the Reach and Dorne."

The ship was swaying more now, the waves were picking up, Maekar could hear the crew stomping about outside hurrying to get the _Silence_ closer to the shore. "Mayhaps you should have stayed there?"

"Nonsense! I like you ironborn, reavers and rapers that you are, your drowned god fascinates me, and there's a lot more adventure with you lot." Tom said. Tom had come to Maekar's court in Ashford when he was lord of the castle, something else Maekar had acquired with the iron price. Tom had drowned in the Mander and ever since had a strange obsession with the culture of the ironborn, even going so far as to abandon his own countrymen to join Maekar in exile. Tom had been a student at the citadel and gotten expelled, but that didn't make him any less clever, he read even more then Maekar did, and owned several volumes on the ironborn and on magical creatures. Tom was the closest thing to a scholar that Maekar had ever met.

"You've never struck me as the sort who'd want to be a maester" Maekar said, laughing. "You should have sailed with Alton, he's a far better ironborn than me." Everyone had always said Maekar was a terrible ironborn, he was an average fighter at best, more interested in the higher mysteries and books than he was at killing or stealing, though that didn't stop him from reaving or choosing his opponents wisely.

"Alton is a fine drinking companion, but his crew is even denser than he is! He makes for poor company when he's sober, I prefer a fellow mystic like yourself, captain." Alton said as they both laughed.

Maekar heard the door open and the cabin became bristled with cold air as the wind rushed in. He turned around to see the serving girl hurry in and kick the door behind her shut, holding two flagons of ale and rum in one hand and a platter of salted sardines with lemon in the other. She was a slender girl with long black hair, blue eyes and quite attractive, she didn't look much older than twenty.

Her hair was messy as it had caught the wind on the way in. "Sorry I kept you waiting, captain" she said as she scurried to put everything on the table and pour the drinks into the goblets. "Falk 'one-eye' was being touchy again."

He picked his goblet up and took a swig of ale, "was he now? Tell him I'll take his other eye should he keep me, and my companion sober for this long again." Tom laughed. Maekar was hardly surprised, there must have been three women on the ship in total, or maybe two, and they were outnumbered by reavers left right and centre. Even he was missing female company these days, Maekar hadn't even claimed a salt wife for a few years now.

She looked at him with a smile, "As you wish, captain" she said.

As she turned around to go Maekar grabbed her by the wrist. "Why don't you drink with us a while? Narra was it?"

She smiled again and nodded, "Narrsa, if it please you, captain." She sat down at the table and poured herself a drink. Maekar squeezed the lemon over the sardine on the plate, the citrusy juices running onto his fingers and over the food, he then took a fish.

The candles were lit, night fell and the ship swayed back and forth as it made its way further to the shore that the captain had spotted in the distance a few hours ago, Maekar had lost count of how many cups of ale and rum they'd went through, or was it flagons? He couldn't remember.

Narrsa seemed to be enjoying the company of Maekar and Tom, she had come from Harlaw, but didn't seem to give away much more than that. They were almost at the beach of the island now and Tom had left to go and pass out on his hammock on the lower decks of the ship. Narrsa suddenly got her composure back together after Tom had left and said "So, I was wondering, do we call you king or captain now?"

Maekar gazed at her in confusion, the question was random, he thought. "You can call me whatever you like, my dear" He said trying not to slur. He heard Quenton Stonetree barking orders outside to prepare the ship to land on the beach.

"And how is the King of the Iron Islands supposed to take back his home with only a few thousand men and a hired fleet?" Narrsa asked.

_I've been asking myself that for days_. "You have a bold tongue, don't you?" He quipped at her. And then his sarcasm turned to despair as he hung his face down and stared at the floor, the room spinning around him. "I don't know, to be honest, maybe I can use some queer magic my father was fond of, or maybe I can pray to the Drowned God and legions of mermen can ascend from the ocean to serve me. Or any God, I would sup with the blackest demon if he would show me how achieve my earthly goals."

"I don't think the drowned men would like to hear that from their king." She remarked. Maekar didn't know why he was letting a servant discuss this with him, she kept talking and he kept thinking on it and responding, maybe it was the ale and rum numbing his senses. He was no stranger to mixing with lower born, especially growing up as a bastard. Eight bastards were sired from the loins of Euron Greyjoy, some from salt-wives and some from women across the world. The first was Wilma Pyke, then Aeron who was older than Maekar by three years, then Maekar himself, they were the only two bastards who were legitimised. The next oldest after Maekar was Harlon, who was fourteen, followed by Joron, Euron, Quellon and Rodrick. He didn't know why they were chosen for legitimisation, Euron said it was just to protect the dynasty against usurpers like his uncle Victarion.

"To hell with the drowned men! What do they ever do besides preach and cry for kingsmoots? One must question the irony of a people who shout about paying the iron price and reaving, but then gathering and choosing a king? Where is the taking or the iron price in this? I say they want to increase their influence with the new kings after each kings moot, they give crowns, that means they can take them away!" Maekar oft got carried away when in his cups.

Narrsa walked over and put her hand under his chin. Before he could react, she said "I'm pleased to find you not only a charming man, Maekar, but also one capable of intellectual discourse. The brethren value the pursuit of knowledge, you see, in addition to more… earthly pursuits."

He now looked up at her, confused at what he was hearing, and ignoring her hand. "Brethren? What are you speaking of?"

"I speak of the Storm God, my King, and his worshippers on the Iron Islands. The drowned men would make us all thralls to the drowned god… To them. The Storm God rewards his worshippers with power and pleasure." She said now, looking straight down on him with her crystal blue eyes and a smile at the corner of her mouth. "And we know that you don't shy away from such forces, we have observed you for some time now." Narrsa unlaced her garments and let them slip to the floor, she then sat on Maekar's lap and stuck her tongue down his throat.

He could feel his manhood stiffening as he embraced her and put a hand round one of her plump breasts. _What is happening?_ He had so many questions but there was so little time to ask them. He managed to free himself from her clutches for a brief moment. "I don't understand, who are you?" he said.

Without saying anything she got up and walked over to the cupboard and wretched out a dark dusty bottle. _She even knows where I keep Shade of the Evening_. She poured the thick dark blue wine of the warlocks into their goblets and gave him his. "Drink it, and we'll soon see exactly how committed you are" Narrsa said, "he will bring you the answers you seek." He carried her to the bed and had his way with her. He didn't know how long they were at it; the ship had surely docked by now. They had made sure the door was barred but he didn't remember anyone trying to disturb them.

_What the fuck are you doing?_ He kept thinking to himself. The visions would come to him tonight. "He will come to you" she had told him, but could it truly be the god that would speak to him?

As Maekar slept, half covered in his sheets, he heard a distant scream. The murky swamp grew around him, the more he turned, the more trees, vines and marshes appeared, fading into the darkness the further they went. A damp half collapsed wooden structure lay in the distance and he walked towards it, yanking his feet out of the puddles. The screams came from multiple directions now, the loudest from the structure. The door collapsed when he pushed it open, the wood creaked each time he stepped further into the building, something quickly grabbed his hand and tried to pull. The whole arm was disgusting and blistered, the body to which it belonged looked half a corpse, as Maekar looked down he saw two sad eyes looking up at him. Blisters and cracks covered his scorched skin, and smoke came from the gaps. It tried to talk but no words came from it. He freed himself from its grasp and carried on. Some corridors were pitch black, some had holes in the top that had allowed a tiny bit of moonlight through, the moon had been red on this night. More and more ravens had been perching around the building, all kept squawking the words "Valyria." More ravens would follow each rod of lightning, and they kept squawking the same word. His father, Euron, had been to the ruins of Valyria and lived to tell the tale, so he said. That was where he acquired his Dragonbinder, and his armour. Maybe Euron had one of these visions as well, and that was why he went? Maekar wondered.

A girl now stood with her face to a wall. Maekar ran to her and turned her round, it was Narrsa. Confused, "Where are we?" he asked.

She laughed and said, "Where we need to be."

"What do I have to do? What awaits me in Valyria?"

She laughed even louder this time "Victory, death, fire and blood, everything you ever wanted!" She kept laughing as her skin turned to ash and she melted through his fingers.

Maekar woke, covered in his silks, the sky still black and Narrsa was right there next to him, she too was awake and had woken sooner than him, it seemed. This was a strange magic, then again, most magic seemed strange. The Storm God was in perpetual war with the Drowned God, so the Drowned men said. This type of worship would be greatly shunned upon, he knew, it was a sin to the ironborn. If he used the power of the Storm God to conquer and bring victory for the ironborn, would that be noble? He thought.

"Welcome to the Hall of the Storm God, Iron King Maekar, first of your name." She said as Maekar held her close.

_Was that the Storm God speaking to me? Or commanding me…_ No one, or thing, commanded the king of the Iron Islands. He had received his message, and he knew he had to what only one man had done before, sail and land on the smoking ruins of Valyria. The thought filled him with fear, but then so did the prospect of dying in Westeros, god knows what fate would behold him should the greenlanders capture him, then again, he didn't know what terrors awaited him in Valyria either. _My father has been there, if he has why not I? _Convincing the fleet to sail there would be difficult as well. The ironborn may follow him if he commanded it, Alton would follow just for the prospect of a fight, Tom would follow for the mystery. But the sellsails, they were the danger, men of Essos who sailed for gold would almost certainly not dare to sail there.

He looked into Narrsa's eyes and smiled, "I wish you had found me sooner."


End file.
